Cinematic Destinies, page 5
“I didn’t know if you prefer tea or coffee,” he said, gesturing at the two pots on the table. “Or perhaps something else altogether. Tomato juice? Kombucha? Canned energy drink? Ginger beer?”
“Ginger beer? Does anyone drink that for breakfast?”
“No, probably not. But you strike me as someone who marches to your own beat. Thought it was worth a stab.”
She smiled. “Tea. I drink black tea in the mornings.”
“Ah, surprising for an American,” he said as he poured her a cup.
“My mother’s a tea drinker. I probably got it from her. Plus, we traveled a lot when I was growing up. Spent a fair amount of time in England, China, all over. I guess I got used to some of the customs.”
“Right, you must have traveled for—” Roo was interrupted when Ástríður came into the room.
“Good morning. What can I get you two for breakfast today? Eggs? Oatmeal? Yogurt? Fruit?” she asked.
“Oh, should we wait for the others?” Georgia asked.
“Mr. Mercier is already on set. He left quite early.”
“My mum told me Michael is always the last one down to breakfast, racing to make his call time,” Roo added. “We best not wait. Please, after you.”
“Yogurt with some berries or other fruit, please,” Georgia said.
“Two eggs over easy, with toast, please. Jam if you have it,” Roo said.
“Certainly. Don’t worry, if Mr. Hennesey joins you, we’ll fix him something straight away,” Ástríður replied before scurrying off.
“So, you were saying you traveled a lot growing up. For your parents’ work?” Roo asked.
“Yes. They always wanted to keep us together, so we’d jet off to wherever either of them was working, for my mom’s university fellowships or my dad’s movies. I loved it. Especially the location shoots for my dad’s films. It was exciting creating a new home in places that felt exotic, and knowing we were there because my dad was a star making a movie. That seemed so special.” She stopped, crinkled her nose, and shook her head. “To me, it was like a dream. In some ways it set the tone for how I aspire to live.”
Roo smiled, captivated by her every word.
“And you?” she asked. “Did you travel much for your parents’ work?”
“Not really. My father is English to the core. Has more than a bit of a bias toward London theater. Thinks it’s the best in the world, you know, more serious or some such thing. He always staged his plays around town. My mum traveled a bit for films, but most of her career was on London’s stages or in indie films shot around England, at least after I was born. She did shoot a picture in Ireland one summer and we all went, lived in a cottage. It was quite lovely. The Irish countryside is gorgeous if you don’t mind the rain, which as a Londoner I was used to.”
“Do you still live in London?”
“I do. I rent a flat in an old brownstone. Beautiful original wood floors and crown moldings, on a tree-lined street. I’m happy there, although I love to travel. I’m not wedded to London like my parents. I could see myself making a home just about anywhere.”
Georgia smiled.
“And you? Do you live in California?”
“I sort of hop around from place to place, for work. Do short-term apartment rentals where I’m never there long enough to fully unpack my things. When an exciting project comes my way, I love having the freedom to pick up, immerse myself, live somewhere new. When I’m in between projects, I usually go back to LA, or I take a long vacation and veg on the beach until the next job.”
“I understand that adventurous, backpacking spirit. Sometimes I think we actors chose this line of work because we’re road dogs by nature.”
“Yeah, I’ve always thought of it like running away to join the circus,” Georgia joked.
“I’ve spent a fair amount of time in LA myself. These days it’s a must in our industry. I’m not terribly enamored by the Hollywood thing, but the landscape in Southern California is spectacular. For one job the studio rented me a little flat in the canyons. There are the most incredible hiking trails.”
“It’s one of the great things about LA,” she said. “Lots of places to run and hike. I love getting a good workout without having to be stuck inside. It’s how I clear my mind. I think it’s a dopamine rush or something. The endorphins combined with the vitamin D.”
“Perhaps one morning we can take a hike around the volcano,” Roo suggested. “It’s not exactly the temperate climate you’re used to, but it certainly looks too unique to pass up.”
“That would be great. I’m always up for an adventure.”
He smiled. “Me too.”
Just then, Ástríður came into the room and served their breakfast.
“Thank you,” Georgia said.
“Yes, thank you. Looks great,” Roo added.
“My pleasure. Please let me know if I can get you anything else,” she said before leaving them to their meal.
“Well, bon appétit,” Georgia said.
“Bon appétit.”
Georgia picked up her spoon, but Roo just sat, staring at her. She noticed and gazed at him. A long moment passed before he said, “At the risk of needing to apologize again, I must tell you that you have the most extraordinary green eyes.”
She smiled and softly said, “Thank you.”
Their eyes were glued to one another as if neither could look away.
“Georgia,” Roo muttered.
Just then, Michael came vaulting into the room. “Hey, guys. What did I miss?”
THE THREE ACTORS WERE SHUTTLED TO the set, a pristine log cabin surrounded by rolling green mountains with an ethereal quality. As they spilled out of the vehicle, Georgia muttered, “Wow. It looks like someplace mythical creatures would live or something.”
“It’s extraordinary,” Roo agreed.
“If not for the trailers and crew scattered everywhere, you’d never guess a movie was going to be made here. There’s something untouched about it,” Michael remarked.
Jean’s assistant ran to greet them. He escorted them each to their personal trailers to drop off their belongings and meet with wardrobe before heading to the hair and makeup trailer. Soon the actors were called to set. As they ambled over, Michael said, “Guys, just a heads-up that Jean’s unconventional to say the least. Don’t be surprised if you don’t have a clue what’s going on. The last time I did a film with him, we had no idea what was going on for weeks, except that he seemed pissed off. The first day was a blur.”
“I’m up for anything,” Georgia said.
“Me too. Looking forward to it,” Rupert added.
When they arrived on set, the crew was milling about. Jean hollered, “Everyone, listen up!” and the room fell silent. “I’d like to introduce our stars. Michael Hennesey is playing a reclusive Pulitzer Prize–winning author dying of cancer.”
Michael trotted to the center of the room to applause.
“Rupert Reed as his biographer, hired to write his memoir,” Jean said.
Roo stepped beside Michael to more cheers.
“Georgia Sinclair Forrester as the young woman he hired to help with domestic tasks—and the love interest of both men.”
Georgia joined her castmates to more applause.
Jean addressed the actors directly. “Today we are shooting the scene where Rupert’s and Georgia’s characters meet. He has been sent off doing research for the past week, and while he’s been gone, she was hired. There is nothing simple about this scene as it foreshadows how both men come to feel about her and the complex relations between all three. With minimal dialogue, it will all be in your eyes.”
The actors exchanged supportive looks.
“Places, everyone,” Jean commanded.
The actors scurried to hit their marks, although with a sparse script and no blocking or rehearsals, they all seemed a bit unsure of themselves. Georgia was at the kitchen counter fidgeting with a prop, Michael seated at the table, his leg jiggling, and Roo outside the door slowly rocking back and forth. The actors immediately snapped into their characters when Jean called, “Rolling . . . Action!”
Georgia picked up a quiche and said, “It’s cool now.” As she turned toward the table, Roo knocked on the door and then stepped inside. The two immediately caught each other’s eyes and stopped in their tracks, as if frozen.
Eventually he stammered, “Uh, sorry to interrupt. I didn’t know you had company.”
She smiled shyly and then placed the quiche on the table. Michael noticed how they looked at each other and grumbled, “This is the American girl I hired to help out around here, Giselle. She may also be of some assistance to you sorting through those boxes of my old papers. Join me for lunch.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” the young biographer said as he sat down.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” she replied. She retrieved an extra plate and set of cutleries, placed them on the table, and asked, “Would you like coffee?”
“Please.”
She filled a mug and set it in front of him.
“Thank you,” he replied softly, their eyes lingering on one another.
“I’ve heard all about your book project,” she said. “I just hope you don’t work too hard. Someone here needs his rest too.”
A trace of a smile flickered across Michael’s face, and he patted her hand. “See, she’s taking very good care of me.”
“Well, if you two gentlemen don’t need anything else, I’m going to take a drive to the pharmacy to pick up those prescriptions. I’ll stop at the market on the way back. Is there anything special you’d like?” she asked her employer.
“Only your return.”
She smiled and headed to the door.
“Giselle,” Roo called.
She turned toward him.
“Thank you for lunch. A real pleasure to meet you.”
“See you later,” she replied.
The men watched as she exited and then looked at each other as if they were both afraid to be the first to exhale.
“Cut!” Jean hollered.
The crew began milling around as the actors all huddled together for notes.
“I’m at a loss. I’ve never had a first shot like that,” Jean said, shaking his head.
“That bad?” Michael asked with raised eyebrows.
“It was completely natural. None of that damn acting I detest. The way you two looked at each other,” he said to Roo and Georgia, “it was perfect.”
The actors all beamed, surprised by the praise.
“Let’s do it again. Try not to fuck it up,” Jean said. “Places, everyone . . . Rolling . . . Action!”
AFTER A LONG DAY ON SET, JEAN INSTRUCTED the actors to change into their street clothes and meet in the dining room for dinner, which was to be their nightly routine. Michael elected himself bartender and fixed himself a vodka tonic and bourbon neat for the others. “You seemed uncharacteristically pleased today,” Michael said to Jean as he passed out the cocktails.
“Actors so often disappoint. They fail miserably when they try to act. They must live it, breathe it, surrender to it. You can’t find truth when you’re busy pretending.” He paused, glanced at Georgia and Roo, and said, “Some things cannot be forced. They must be genuine. Then there is the chance for something beautiful.” Jean raised his glass. “A toast. To the least abysmal first day on set I recall.” The actors raised their glasses and began to smile when he added, “But don’t let it go to your heads. We shall see what happens tomorrow.”
Michael laughed. They all clinked glasses and took a sip.
“That’s smooth,” Roo said.
“I like the vanilla undertones,” Georgia remarked.
Ástríður and Gunnar came in and presented dinner family style: roasted local fish, braised lamb stew, potatoes, and vegetables. Michael assisted Jean and the others helped themselves. As they began eating, Michael said, “So, Jean, since this is your last film, any plans for your retirement?”
Jean huffed. “I think only about what I am doing now. The film is all-consuming. She is everything.”
“You gonna tell us what it’s really about? There’s always so much meaning embedded in your projects that’s hard to see until it all comes together,” Michael said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jean replied.
Michael chuckled. “Here I thought maybe age had relaxed you. I can see you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Damn right,” Jean agreed.
“Well, I for one am enjoying the process,” Roo said.
“Me too. I never like to overthink things,” Georgia said.
Jean smirked. “Good, then you shall be open to the moments.” He skimmed his finger around the rim of his glass. “That’s all there is, really. Moments. In life. In film. You string them together and somehow they become a story.”
“Sounds like you’re getting a little sentimental there,” Michael remarked.
“Eh, rubbish,” Jean protested, downing the rest of his drink. “But I’ll tell you this, as the one nearest the grave at the table, best to focus on the moments. Live them, create them, bloody well steal them if you must. That’s where beauty hides. There is so much ugliness in this fucked-up abyss of human tragedy. Even beauty is bound to and corrupted by its underside. But on those rarest of occasions, glimmers of pure beauty can be found. It always hides in the moments.”
They all sat quietly soaking in the words, until Jean broke the silence. “Such a serious lot. Will be a damn long summer if you don’t lighten up. Michael, another bourbon. Then perhaps you’ll all indulge me with your stories of being overly pampered actors. Booze. Bravado. Broken chandeliers in hotel rooms. Don’t hold back.”
AFTER DINNER, MICHAEL AND JEAN RETIRED for the evening. Roo turned to Georgia and said, “It’s still a bit early. I was thinking about another drink and perhaps checking out that DVD collection Ástríður mentioned. Care to join me?”
“I’d love to,” she replied.
Roo topped off their drinks and they strolled to the dimly lit living room.
“Wow, this is so old-school,” Georgia said, noticing the movie collection as she plopped onto the couch.
“Their selection is too. Seems they have a fondness for the classics. What type of film do you feel like?”
“Anything. Your choice.”
“Oh my. They have Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Have you seen it?”
She shook her head.
“It’s one of my favorites. Sort of an English tradition. It’s a comedy. Satirical and arguably quite stupid. It was banned by all kinds of religious groups.”
“You sold me,” she said with a giggle.
“I knew you were a rebel.” He put the DVD in the machine and hit play, taking the seat beside her. “It really is a very particular kind of humor. If you find it dreadful, say the word and we’ll put something else on. I won’t be offended.”
“I’m up for anything,” she assured him.
Within moments they were both laughing uproariously. They spent the next hour and a half laughing so hard Georgia complained, “My stomach actually hurts.”
“So, you liked it?” he asked.
“Adored it. Although I don’t know why. Somehow it walked a fine line between totally stupid and epically brilliant.”
“Yes, exactly,” Roo agreed.
They found themselves staring at one another, silly smiles on their faces.
Eventually Georgia said, “I can’t believe how well things went today. It felt like we all just clicked into our characters.”
“Yeah. Jean seemed quite pleased. Listening to him at dinner tonight . . .”
“What?” she asked.
“I’m not sure, really. It’s just he has such a reputation for being hopelessly dark and dystopian, and while on the surface that rings true, there’s a real depth and sensitivity there that surprise me.”
“I feel that way too,” she agreed. “I’m looking forward to getting back on set. Taking it day by day. Well, moment by moment.”
They smiled at one another, and Roo said, “Speaking of the film, we should probably get some rest. I fear I’ve kept you up too late already.”
“No, this was great. But you’re right. We should probably get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you up,” he offered.
When they arrived at Georgia’s room, she said, “This is me. Thanks for a fun night. I’ll have to see the rest of those movies.”
“Glad you’re a fan. Well, good night.” He turned to leave and then swiveled around and said, “See you in the gym in the morning?”
“Yeah. See you there. Good night.”
Roo began puttering down the hallway but turned just as she unlocked her door. She glanced over and they smiled at each other before she disappeared into her room.
CHAPTER 6
The next morning, Roo ambled into the dining room to see that Georgia was already there, scribbling in a notebook. He watched her for a moment before saying, “You beat me.”
She looked up and smiled. “I did get a jump start since you were still lifting weights after my run.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, taking the seat opposite her. “I also confess to indulging in a long, hot shower. Something had me a bit giddy this morning, and I found myself humming in the shower.”
“I didn’t know you Englishmen got giddy, stiff upper lip and all.”
“Perhaps my new American friend has brought it out of me,” he replied with a smile. He paused before adding, “I like starting the day with you, spending time with you. Well, I just like you.”
“I like you too,” she said. They were silent for a moment before Georgia gestured to the pot in the center of the table, “Uh, there’s plenty of tea.”
“Thank you,” he said, topping hers off and then pouring himself a cup. “Have I disturbed you?” he asked, glancing at her notebook.
“Not at all,” she assured him, pushing it aside. “I’ve been journaling since I was a kid. I try to write every day, but time got away from me yesterday.”
“That’s a wonderful habit. Do you use it for reflection or to document your life?”
“Both, really. When I was a kid, I had such big dreams. I’d write them down. Guess I thought it made them more real. As I got older, it became more of a way to chronicle my life. The theater productions I’ve done, films, travel. I’m the kind of person who always wants to live in the moment, but I guess . . .” She trailed off.
